Swan and the Stripper
by ibuypeetasbread
Summary: Emma Swan has just been dumped, breakups are becoming all too familiar until a deep strangers voice appears on the end of her phone. A blind date is one thing but being set up with a prostitute is another. Sex is guaranteed, but what about love? - CAPTAIN SWAN AND SMUT / STRIPPER!KILLIAN /
1. Chapter 1

_**I haven't written fanfiction in over a year but I decided to jump back on the bandwagon and write some more! I appreciate if chapter 1 is a bit dry and crap, but once I get into it, I'm sure it'll get a lot better! Please fav,read,review and lastly enjoy! Enjoy the beauty of Captain Swan at least 3**_

It was always going to end like this really; I didn't expect anything other than ending up by myself again. It was inevitable, I mean I'm fine which really suggests something about my character don't you think?

It was never love, I never felt any feelings. I never felt that cliché butterfly in the stomach feeling you're meant to when you're around them. Like fucking hell, why can't I just turn it on?

Being dumped does suck, but suddenly I've travelled from the street corner outside a smoke shop (classy place to dump someone, I know – I'm lucky) to my apartment in Boston and I'm shoveling cinnamon chocolate ice cream into my mouth like tomorrow and my diet, doesn't exist.

I call this phase one of being let down. It's before the tears and the wine, and the rum and the vodka and the mixing of the rum with the vodka. Phase two is messy. It's once involved me waking up at four in the morning with bran flakes stuck to my face and 'WHY DOESN'T HE LOVE ME' scrawled over the bedroom wall in eyeliner. Phase two is the low point, and involves a lot of cleaning the morning after. It's sort of like a one night stand without the sex and the pleasure; actually it's nothing like a one night stand at all. More like a drunken night out with Ruby.

I feel my glaze over as I reach for the red wine, abandoning the glass and let the burning liquid sooth my heart, which I admit is starting to feel phase two feeling pretty strong.

One of the few good things about being with Graham, before he dumped me on my ass of course. Graham was actually pretty perfect; he was a cop, had that charming Irish drawl and had a knack of making me feel quite special. Attractive on every level, he was model good looking, but now I'm realising it's a problem when you're boyfriend has better hair than you.

You see, I Emma Swan, am lacking in the commitment department. Graham was perfect, but don't you need to be perfect yourself to be with someone who strangers on the street would give a solid 10 to. I'm more of a 5, maybe a solid 6. Long Blonde hair, black tank top and rose brown leather jacket classifies as a solid Swan look. Smart but severe. Like Ruby says: my looks match my personality.

I put the now half empty bottle of red down and glare around the apartment. Not very homely for someone that's been occupying it for some time now. To think that Graham was going to move in. A quick smile crosses my face. Stone white walls, smart brown leather couches, a kitchen that's cooked nothing more than a bowl of cereal. I could never picture us together.

Looking down and stroking the soft cotton throw, we could have never sprawled across this couch with hands intertwined and watched crappy old black and white movies. No, Graham was into action and fast pace. He was a huntsman, and I was more of a deer ready to be shot. I couldn't live up to whatever shitty expectation of a perfect girlfriend he had. Thinking about it more and more I never once felt anything.

I'm not a chronic bitch face, I'm just honest.

I'm suddenly jolted out of position. The tune of some trap song Ruby has set my phone to blasts out across the dark empty apartment. No caller ID. I sit there and don't pick up, I'm too bitter to answer the phone right now, I'll probably snap and I think I'm also slightly intoxicated given than now the wine bottle appears to be empty. Fucking Graham. He doesn't even have the decency to call me.

'Hey it's Emma here, leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible, thanks' I hear my own voice and then it goes to answer phone.

A husky deep voice now fills the room as I manoeuvre the phone closer to my ears. 'Love it's Hook, I'm just calling to say that – bloody hell Lacey shut up I'm on the phone to a fucking client.' The deep voice pauses, heavy breathing follows. I stare at the phone slightly mesmerised. 'Sorry erm- I'm just wondering if you're still coming for your appointment, got some new moves to try out on you and this guy needs some action if you get what I mean.' The voice laughs, the boom so deep it makes me feel almost warm. 'So yes, come down the Jolly Rodger in half an hour if you haven't backed out, I'm sure you haven't, not that I've ever seen you of course..it's first session but erm- I'm going to shut the fuck up now. Bye'

The voice ends the call. Getting up, I walk over to the kitchen, the tiles cold on my bare feet contemplating what just happened. Prostitute? Hooker? Drunk idiot? The wine pours itself and I'm drinking out of the bottle yet again. But the deep voice is still ringing through my ears. I shouldn't be thinking about this, I shouldn't have another man's voice in my head. I should be throwing glass on the floor and drunk dialling Graham whilst screaming over 'The Notebook'. But there's something that I can't put into words. Curiosity, I guess.

'Come down the Jolly Rodger' I reach over to the kitchen table and grab my laptop, within a few clicks, or actually quite a lot because drunk typing is actually pretty hard – I'm on google.

tje jolly roodger bostonn

I quickly press enter and look at the search results, nothing.

My heart sinks, I don't know what I was expecting but I didn't think I would actually feel disappointed. It's not like I am the sort of person to go down to a strip club, or any club of that matter. LET ALONE follow instructions from creepy British guy that appeared down the end of my phone just 5 minutes ago. I feel my cheeks flush red.

As I close my laptop screen, my eyes just glace over the words 'strip' 'bar' and 'rendez vous'. I breathe in and open the lid and there it is.

'Jolly Rodger – strip club and bar, Boston's most worst kept secret.' I piece the words together before I have a chance to process everything but. He was fucking legit. I'm fucking involved in some sex appointment. Things like this do not happen to people like me. I am not sexual I am not the dark and mysterious type. I am bold and brash and fuck people that I've had a few dates with. Not British guys that 'wants to try out NEW MOVES.'

My phone lights up again, I widen my eyes and expect no caller ID but it's Ruby. Oh fuck. I clasp my hands over my mouth. Ruby will want to know, she will know something is up.

'Emma!' Her perky voice shrills through the phone.

'Ruby, hey, Graham and I broke up.' I hear myself say, in a happier voice than I expect. I look over at my laptop screen, the Jolly Rodger website glares back at me.

'I know honey! He updated his Facebook profile, that guy knows how to move on fast!' She says. 'He's a dick babe don't worry about him, he's too perfect for you.'

I'm used to these backhanded compliments so I take it without complaining. 'Ruby something just happened.' I break off and take another deep swig of wine.

'What babe?' she utters.

'Some guy called 'Hook' just called me and said he's waiting for me to come to his appointment at the Jolly Rodger.' I pause expecting her to react. 'So I googled it and it's a fucking strip club!'

She doesn't say anything but I can hear laughter erupt from the other end of the phone.

'Surprise!' She replies, her voice so high from laughing it's hard to understand.

'What the actual fuck Ruby.' I look around in shock. 'You arranged this whole thing?!' I try to formulate my words but so much excitement is bubbling up in my stomach it's hard to suppress.

'Yes, take it from me Emma, you need to have a good time.' She says neutrally.

'So you set me up with a prostitute.' I close the laptop screen.

'A VERY nice prostitute!' She laughs 'Well I've heard he's nice the club is really clean and let's just say I've been there and it's an - experience.' She erupts into a fit of laughter again.

I walk over to my bedroom and turn on the light; I open the closet door and pick out a black dress. I take the phone away from my ear, 10:34pm.

'Emma, you have to go!' I hear the phone say, 'You need to go meet you're prince charming, well a tall dark handsome one. And don't worry I've paid in advance for you!'

'And that makes it all ok.' I sarcastically offer whilst applying black kohl to my eyes.

'So you're actually going!' She squeals.

'I sense your shock, yes Ruby I am.' I put down the phone and look in the mirror. I push up my hair and brush down my front. I summon all the strength I possess. 'I'm going to go fuck a stranger.'


	2. Chapter 2

_**I decided to do two chapters tonight, since Killian isn't the first chapter I HAD to write C2 today! Kinda semi smut ahead, full smut next chapter promise! Read, fav, review, follow and ENJOY! :)**_

I can feel my heart beating solidly under my brown leather jacket. I had to put the jacket on. No question, it was for comfort purposes. And at this very moment in time I need comfort to protect me from the very comfort zone I am fleeing.

The recurring thought running through my head is 'why'. Why am I doing this? Am I trying to prove something? To me? To Graham? To prove I'm better than Graham? The bottle of wine I've consumed is making matters worse, jumbling thoughts in my head and blurring reality and fantasy.

Downtown Boston is cold and dark, the street lamps are dimly lit and the heady smell of alcohol and cocaine is filling my head. It's most definitely matching to my own idea of a strip club, but I guess people come here if they don't want to be followed. The street is narrow and covered with damp and torn posters. I look down as one attaches itself to my heel. The Jolly Rodger is scrawled across in faded red; I guess I am getting closer, I breathe in, feeling my heartbeat rise just a tiny bit more.

The air is cloying however the sky is completely clear, I look up and to my surprise see stars shining back down at me. I feel the cold breeze against my face, the feeling of my cheeks turning a blushing pink. I continue walking in silence, the only noise coming from my heels clicking against the pavement.

After 2 more minutes of cautiousness I reach a small row of houses and shops, a tattoo parlour. A run down looking laundrette and of course here it is in all it's glory. The Jolly Rodger. Considering its location it's not too run down. The outside is pealing with black paint and the sign is flickering with red light. The thumping of music travels out the door, the atmosphere fills me with relief if that's possible. I'm not in an abandoned house, I'm not being set up for murder, or- something that isn't what I'm about to do. Oh fucking god what am I doing?

I readjust my hair and I push open the heavy wooden door. I am taken back by the warmth I am greeted with, the temperature is hot, the lights are humming against my skin, and the music is buzzing against my ears. I am suddenly not scared at all.

Bailbonds requires me to act confident in any situation, if I keep control and turn this into a game; I it can be fun. I can be a dirty, filthy woman; get rid of Graham from my head, for a few hours turn into someone else. Forget about insecure Emma Swan, that just ate a whole tub of cinnamon ice cream and shit cheap red wine. Be someone's mistress, or someone that craves warm, delicious sex.

I take off my jacket and swing it across my back; I stride up to the bar which is in the nearest corner to me opposite the stage, the stage being the essential part of the strip club, again lit with faded red light, giving a simmering glow across the floor, surrounding the small tables with men and women nursing drinks.

The bar itself is shabby but has charm, it's scattered with light candles and tall glasses, the place looking somewhere where you order a straight vodka instead of asking for the wine list. A tall skinny man wearing a black shirt, open two buttons down, makes eye contact with me; he winks and grabs a glass.

'A vodka for the pretty lady.' He smiles and slides the glass of liquid across the counter. 'Your first time here?'

I grab the drink and look up at him. He has thick brown hair fashioned into a quiff and ash coloured eyes, actually sort of pretty. He moves towards the drinks and more of his chest is revealed, brightly coloured tattoos pop off his pale white skin.

'Yes, I've actually got an appointment.' I smile, holding the vodka in my hand, appreciating his attention.

'Oh, I see!' He laughs 'Well you came to the right place.' He winks again. 'Who with?'

'Hook?' I drain the vodka in one go, wincing at the heat pummelling down my throat, it's a nice burning to numb the anxiety that suddenly arose from uttering his name.

'Ah Hook, you're in for a treat.' He looks over to the opposite end of the bar. 'One second lovely.' He walks over and starts a group of bulky men wearing sleeves of tattoos; unlike the boy they're faded and old. I smile to myself: this is what I expected from a place like this.

He walks back over and draws up a stool. 'I'm Jefferson.' He looks at me.

'I'm Emma.' I smile and pass him back the glass. 'It's not quite what I expected, here I mean, this place.' I slide out a stool and sit down.

'I know what you mean.' He glances over to the stage. A girl is on the pole, sliding up and down, wearing next to nothing, a red bralet and matching panties. The music is soft but heavy, the atmosphere is thick and heavy with lust. The tattooed men slide dollars into her cleavage. I look back to Jefferson. 'It's nice here, it's sort of hard to describe.' He slides me another vodka.

'Why do you keep giving me drinks?' I bite my lip 'Am I that irresistible?' I play on my character, trying to squash the small remaining worry in the pit of my stomach.

'You're a woman.' He plays with his hair. 'I like to please, what can I say.' He looks at a door over the far side of the room, lit above with a yellow lantern. 'It looks like Hook is ready for you- Miss Emma.' He finishes.

I follow his gaze and down the rest of the vodka. 'Thanks for the drinks.' I get up and look back at the bar.

'Enjoy.' The boy says as he gives a smile, turning back to serve more gathering customers.

I stride over to the illuminated door; I take a deep breath and open it. The sudden smell of aftershave and salt overcome me. The room is dark apart from a few lit candles huddled in the corner. And that's when I hear the voice, warm and familiar even though I only heard it for the first time an hour ago.

'So you're the famous Emma.' The British accent is deeper than it was on the phone, I turn around to try and find the owners face. 'I'm over here love.'

I stop and stare. Although the lighting is dim, I can make out all that needs to be made out. A man of about 6' is stood leaning against the door frame. His limbs are long and I'm not sure if it's possible but his voice matches his appearance. His eyes are vivid blue, surrounded with just a touch of black kohl, his eyebrows so telling. His hair is thick rick brown; his stubble is rough and surrounds his peach lips worn in a smirk. He wears a black waistcoat made out of something thick, possibly leather. I believe he is the sort of person that is rough, not classically perfect, but lustful and warm, he just screams 'fuck me'.

'Yes, and you must be Hook.' I smirk. 'Is that actually a real name?' I stand taking in the tension in the air, the candles burning brightly, emitting comfortable warmth.

He gets off the wooden frame and walks towards me slowly; I catch a smell of salt spray. 'I let my clients believe that, but Miss Swan you're a bit different.' He walks behind me and his hand grazes my shoulder. I feel a burst of unexpected electricity run through my arm.

'I'm special.' I turn round and begin to walk towards him. I flick my hair over behind my shoulders. Making sure I show off my collar bones, my skin. I grab both of his shoulders and pull towards him.

'Aye, indeed you are.' He breathes in heavily. Our faces merely centimetres apart. The tension unbearable. He pauses and stares into my eyes. I stay connected to the bold blue and don't need to look away, all I want in this moment is blue, and all I want in this moment is him. 'Ready.' He whispers, titling his head to align with my neck.

'Yes' I breathe in. My legs feeling weak with lust.

He starts on my neck and my knees almost give way with delight, he kisses roughly emitting moans as his works his way down. I grab his hair and my hands work their way down to his ass. I give a squeeze and he lets out a larger moan. Within seconds my dress is pulled down to my knees and his black jeans are discarded on the floor.

He breaks away, his hands now places on my back, the clasp undoes itself and he is there cupping my breasts, his fingers circling my nipples as his gestures me onto the bed in the middle of the room. I grab his bulge now very prominent from his boxers; I give it a squeeze whilst I work on his neck as he sucks my nipples. We both give faint moans in unison.

'Swan.' He whispers in my ear. He grabs my shoulders and I look up staring back into the blue. He leans in, this time the tension is different. It's not lustful anymore, this is desire. He runs his finger over my lips and I lean in. Our lips meet, unlike the previous few minutes it's slow but just as comfortable as before. I feel a spread of warmth through my upper body and suddenly my stomach is filled with a fluttering sensation.

He pulls away and stares at me again. He takes a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my eye. Not losing eye contact once, my lips still warm from his own mouth, the taste of the sea on my tongue. 'Killian' he murmurs 'My real name is Killian.'


	3. Chapter 3

_**I tried smut, I really don't know if it's good/bad/really bad - so please don't feel afraid to review and tell me how it was! Also thank you so much for all the views for previous chapters. Makes me so so happy! Fav, review, follow AND ENJOY :)**_

'Killian.' I utter back to the tall dark stranger.

It feels right, and it feels like it belongs to him. Suddenly I forget about the promised sex and just look at his face. The warmth of the candles, still glowing with faded yellow light, half his face in shadow the other half illuminated. I forget about the tension and almost feel my hands start to tremble.

'Swan?' He slowly raises one of his arms; his palm connects with my own hooked around his neck. His skin is hot with previous passion; just the very gesture of his hand touching my own soothes me.

I look down and feel my cheeks burning. I look up again managing a small meek smile. 'So is this what you do with all your clients?'

He tightens his grip on my hand and gives a small laugh, his cornflower blue eyes crinkle around the edges. 'Aye.'

I usually find silences intimidating and uncomfortable, but just looking at his face makes it somehow different, he strokes the tips of my fingers and I feel the strong gaze staring into my own eyes. The room is still dark and mysterious, it's meant for strong passionate lustful sex, but instead I'm standing in the middle of the room with my hands intertwined with the man that's meant to seduce me. His chest is bare apart from scattering of thick brown hair that gently presses against my breasts. I simply can't pull away; this moment is so exact, so right. I feel like if I move a single muscle the warmth will be destroyed and the last 10 minutes will be shattered.

His deep voice hums against my neck. 'We haven't even fucked yet Swan.' He whispers 'And yet if I compare this moment to others, I feel like I've come about seven times.' He pulls away slightly so I can see his dancing eyes. He laughs; I feel his chest move under mine.

'Master of sex and words I see.' I take my free hand and place it on his chest, moving it towards the position of his heart.

He slowly moves away, sits on the bed, resting casually as far as the wooden headboard; surrounded in red velvet cushions. He takes off his boxers, his dick semi-hard. I don't know where to look for a second but then I realise the only place I need to be looking is his crotch. No denying it: he's huge. I feel the atmosphere change from light to stormy dark. This time I feel hungry. Tingling runs up by bare spine.

He reads my mind as I hear his husky voice summon. 'Now fuck me properly.'

Seductively as possible I sander over to the dark rich wooden bed, a silk burgundy sheet lies on top of the mattress. I climb aboard, getting on all fours, making sure I arch my back and squeeze my ass tight, never leaving his intense expressive face. I feel a rush of pride, he's captivated.

On my knees I reach his side, I stay kneeling waiting for the strangers instructions.

'Now listen Swan, that was just a warm up. You came here for sex. I run this for sex. And love, let me tell you.' He gives a small laugh, raising his finger to my chin. 'You are going to get your money's worth.'

I begin to reach for the inside of his legs, before he quickly bats me away. I look up again at his face. Unlike before he is straight faced, his jaw is sharp with instruction.

'One condition lass, you do whatever I tell you to do, this is my room and therefore I am in control, you will obey every command I tell you, follow every instruction. If I say suck my dick, you suck my dick.' His blue eyes begin to sparkle again, he winks. 'Understand Swan?'

I feel warmth starting to appear around the inside of my legs, my nipples begin to harden. He is in control, full control. And somehow I am completely ready to let go and immerse myself. I hear my voice whisper seductively. 'Yes Hook.'

'Now suck my cock.' He whispers into my ear. My knees buckle and I shift backwards, pushing my tumbling blonde hair out of my face, making sure never to break eye contact. Not that that's possible. The brunette's eyes drilled into my own.

Like acknowledged earlier, he is huge, I take just a few seconds to look at what's in front of me. He is half hard and before I know it the head is inside my mouth, I hear a faint whisper of pleasure. I look up his face showing appreciation for what's about to come.

Beginning to gently suck, I start at a slow pace, my mind wondering just how many times a day he gets this treatment. How many countless blow jobs must he ... endure. Shit, I've got a lot to live up to.

I bob up and down gradually starting to speed up, with a few tries I manage to get his whole cock in my mouth, using my hands to play with his balls. Moans are flowing from his mouth; I feel his hands splay around the sheets as he grabs them.

'Swan…he sighs breathlessly.' I flick my eyes up, his head is back against the headboard and his eyes are shut, I feel a puddle of wetness coming from the inside of my legs. The only thing I'm craving in these minutes are his dick inside me, I want him to lick me out, to fuck me from behind. I want to be part of him, be with him. Aggressively slam him onto the bottom whilst I ride him moving backwards and forwards at a face uncontrollable pace.

'You're so fucking hot.' I murmur. His eyes open, his mouth forms a smile as I run my fingers across his slit. His smile widens, a deep long moan follows. His cock leaking pre-cum, I make sure I suck it up.

'Bloody hell lass.' He groans, running his fingers through his chocolate hair in distress. He thrusts his groin forward in hunger. I oblige and go back for more. I run my tongue down the base of his dick and swirl it around in a circular motion. Continuing to look up at his expression, gaging how well I'm doing, searching for approval.

'Fuuuuuuk.' He screams repeatedly as I continue to suck, this time at a sensational pace, bobbing up and down and using my fingers to play with all his length. My breasts swaying in all directions, his hands now placed on my head forcing me in for more.

Not soon after he comes, his hips jerk up suddenly, his skin hot to my touch. His chest furiously moving up and down due to his heavy breathing.

'Swan, I need to be inside you.' He whispers once he gains control again. I finish my task and suck up the creamy white cum that's left a trail all over the sheets. He quickly rises from his position against the headboard and plays around in an open side draw, rummaging for what looks like a condom.

'Now I'm going to give you the pleasure as that was bloody good.' He winds his fingers lightly around my nipples, his head around my neck. I feel his warm breath as my hairs stand on end. I give a silent moan as his nibbles my ear lobe. 'What do you want done Swan? Are you wet for me?'

With one arm I reach for his head and pull it into view, his blue eyes dancing in arousal. I shimmy back against the wall and spread my legs wide. I grab his hand and direct it towards my opening. His fingers waste no time in entering, he gently swirls them around and I feel myself give a moan of pleasure. 'Swan you're fucking soaking.' He curses, whilst continuing to swirl his fingers, adding in a third causing me to scream in delight.

'Eat me out.' I manage to summon in between the moans. 'Eat me out Killian.' He rearranges himself on the bed, not leaving eye contact for a split second, his eyebrows furrow in concentration. He starts to lick round my clit, still soaking from giving head. I place my hands on his head, allowing him to put on more pressure. I hear an approving grunt as I throw my head back and give a long breathless moan.

'Fucking hell, you're amazing.' I shout my eyes catch sight of the candles, still burning brightly shedding golden intense light around the room, the light hitting Killian's head, spotlighting him. Like a cat his tongue gives little strokes around my opening and he starts to place tiny kisses around the inside of my thighs. Each individual kiss tickling my skin feeling like little sparks from a fire, embers of red, amber and yellow.

I'm almost near the edge when he pulls away, giving him a quizzical look, the man winks at me. 'Not going to let you finish that early Swan.' He licks his lips. 'I'm not done with you yet.' I stare at him, his rough brown hair is messy, and his eyes are glittering azure. 'I have to have you inside me.' He finishes. He sprawls backwards across the sheets and gestures towards his cock with his hands.

'I have to say your re-start time is impressive.' As I look at his semi.

The stripper gives a small laugh before reaching for my hand. 'Ride me love.' He orders, before cupping my breasts as I lean forward, giving both of them a hard squeeze.

Breathing in a deep sigh I crawl towards him and quickly mount him. It's a calming feeling when we both sigh in unison, his moan is deep and husky like his voice, whereas mine is rather quiet but deep down in my stomach it churns, craving more. I manage to fill every inch of his length, whilst I begin to ride; he continues to play with my breasts, sucking around my nipples. Grating against them with his teeth, making me shiver.

Trying to vary the pace is hard when you've got such an passionate lover inside you, all I want to do is fucking ride him and go as fast an humanly possible. But I need to make sure I don't indulge him too much, make sure he savours it. I want to reach tipping point at the same time as him.

'I don't care what you're doing darling, just fuck me harder.' He pants 'I know you want to.'

I start to fuck him harder than before, his cock filling me entirely, the flood of pre-cum making it impossible to go slow. He moves on from my nipples onto my neck, like the kisses on my thighs he repeats it on my neck, butterfly kisses all the way up from my chest to my lips. Looking directly at me with his piercing gaze, I'm almost distracted from the task in hand. His hands play with my overflowing clit, rubbing vigorously as I continue to ride at an overwhelming rate. The friction tips me over the edge. And it seems he follows shortly after. The room is filled with a loud sound of pleasure; I tip my head back to savour the moment. But his hand stops me.

Burning hot hands wrapped around my face, whimpering and panting follow as he begins to lean in. I gasp in surprise as his stubble scratches my skin. His lips salty and full. I close my eyes and meet him, making sure to take in every single fucking second.

After what seems about 5 minutes of pure intimacy, he pulls away, keeping his hand resting on my bare shoulder, mine resting on his warm chest. He begins to formulate a sentence but pauses momentarily. Instead his fingers dance their way up to my mouth, before he whispers.

'Time's up Swan.'


	4. Chapter 4

**It's been ages since and update! But I've just been watching OUAT and cannot tell you how much I love these two! Here's (a rather shit) next chapter of Swan and The Stripper! Please read, review, fav, follow and ENJOY**!

It had been two weeks since I'd first met him. Two weeks, or fourteen days, each seem as equally as long. But I hadn't been back. Admittedly all I want to do is get off my couch littered with vodka bottles and loose popcorn and walk down that cold dark alley and be met with shiny warm lights. That's what I want more than fucking anything. I sometimes swear I can hear his deep husky voice over the sounds of telephones ringing at work or visualize him in a crowd littered with different people. Sometimes it's strange how much of an impact someone can have on you in such a short amount of time. Fair enough this person had his dick in my mouth, but I needed that night. I needed that night to pick myself up and put down the ice cream. Breakups are hard- but fuck I got over it surprisingly fast. (Not faster than Graham since he updated his Facebook again the week after we broke up, this time making his new relationship 'Facebook Official' with his _female work cop partner person_. The standard long sexy brunette with bee stung lips and big blue eyes, I'm not sure why I didn't piece it together before but I'm sure he was fucking her in the back of the car long before we broke up.)

But Hook- Killian- whatever he's called. Killian. I'll use his proper name? Fuck he fucked his way into my head, right through my skull and he's just swimming about in my brain, putting thoughts of visiting the club again. Even Ruby laughed when I mentioned how I want to see him again. Pretty sure her response was something like:

_fuck em. U srs. Gr8 plan. U have a deep chat about life while he's in bed w 2 other girls one sucking his dick the other stroking his arm like a fucking guard dog. Gr8 plan._

So that's how it got to two weeks. And he didn't call back, like I wasn't surprised anyway. I was probably blonde number 50 out of 500 in his weekly schedule, fitting in between a Russian supermodel and a Mom with 3 kids. _Classy Emma, just the way you pictured your 20's._

I feel my eyes gaze over; slowly opening them again to realize that the subway is past my fucking stop. Fuck. Well I won't be cooking dinner tonight then will I. The people around me subside as it gets later and later, the yelling of children and pushy parents turns into gentle chatter and eventually just the gentle sounds of people listening to music through headphones. The effort to get on the right train seems just too much; staying sitting down is much less strenuous than walking home in heels and cooking something remotely healthy to combat the amount of carbs that is currently circulating beneath my skin. My hair falls in front of my face and covers my eyes smudged with black eyeliner and bags. It's been a rough week at work and with nothing to look forward to life is pretty grim. The highlight of the week has probably been the fact I bought a winning scratch card and got £40 but then that may just be because I'm broke. Like fucking probably can't afford this week's rent broke.

I somehow find the inner strength to get to my feet and get off at the next stop, pace the empty streets of Brooklyn and look for something to eat that won't give me food poisoning. Sometime later I find the newest Chinese I can complete with tacky neon sign and order some noodles while I sit and wait staring into the murky grey fishtank that's on display. Poor fucking fish, I tap on the glass and stare into the biggest one's eyes. 'At least you're not going to be in the food.' I whisper as I stare at the dire food on the counter, the same shade as the water. 'Or at least I hope you're not.'

'Talking to the fish are we.'

I'm suddenly jolted out of position on the plastic chair, my head swivels in the direction the voice. It takes me a moment to register how warm and deep it was- and British.

'Fuck me.' I feel my mouth form an 'O' shape, my eye's becoming rapidly streakier with black under the florescent bright lighting.

'Aye, I believe I've already done that.' The man laughs quietly under his breath, bringing a hand up to stroke his messily forming chocolate brown beard. 'You look good.' He adopts a sarcastic tone.

With my cheeks burning bright pink I stand up to try and gather some authority over the stranger. 'You too, homeless person chic is the look I'm assuming you're aiming for?'

'Touche.' He laughs a bit louder, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He stays sitting down, flexing his arms out over the over seats.

'But seriously why are you sitting in a Chinese takeout at 10pm on a Monday instead of in a bed with three Brazilian bikini models?'

'Because I'm having a spontaneous night off?' His blue eyes narrow. 'That in depth enough for you- Swan.' He finishes.

The building tension is broken by the sound of the bell at the counter being rung.

'Emma Swan, order number 23.' The old woman shouts out.

I look at him for a brief second and turn and walk to the counter, the carpet underneath feeling gritty, my eyes look down and see a puddle of grey sunk into the fabric.

'That'll be $15.' The woman holds a white plastic bag in her frail short arms.

I route around in my pockets to try and find my purse, my hands trying to clasp for something to grab hold of. The Chinese music blurring into the back of my mind as I feel my forehead become sticky with sweat, my fingers becoming hot and clammy and a feeling I describe is 'Oh fuck panic' sets in.

'Fuck-' I begin to rehearse my apology about my absence of any form of actual fucking payment when suddenly an arm reaches from behind me and offers the lady a $20.

'Keep the change.' I turn my head and see him wink at her. She smiles and disappears into the back shuffling behind the peeling red painted door to collect his own order.

'What the fuck was that for.' I swing my long blonde hair over my shoulder, wiping my hands together trying to cool them down.

'You obviously haven't got money so I stepped in like any normal nice person.' He smiles a little too big. His hands brush down the front of his plaid shirt and he passes the lady another note and takes a similar white plastic bag for himself.

'Oh well-' I feel my cheeks turn pink yet again, this time my hair sticks to my face, my shoes digging into my heels.

'Usually in this situation you say thank you.' His face mocks my own confused one. His hands clasp around the plastic bag whilst he runs his other hand through his disheveled brown hair, sweeping it up neatly into a perfect chocolate quiff.

'Thanks.' I eventually mutter, and give tight smile. 'I really need to pay you back though.'

'No payment necessary, you've given me enough already Swan.' He winks again, his blue eyes shining a little too brightly under the pure white lightbulb.

_Fuck he's charming._

I give another smile and turn to face the door, trying to avoid all temptation.

'Unless you want to come back to my apartment lass.' His voice shakes the very insides of me. 'I take payment in a different way too.'

I turn around again, my fingers tightly clasped around the door handle

'What a very kind offer indeed.' My lips part and a smile slips out. The smell of whatever the noodles are cooked in begin to surround me and I admit I don't feel very hungry anymore.

He's see's my expression and seems to follow, toying with his own bag. 'Ditch the food and have a liquid dinner?' A small smirk edges onto his face. He starts to walk towards me; his smirk grows into a fully developed smile, showing off his perfect white teeth. He opens the door and lets me out first, his chest brushing against my back, a spread of warmth chases down my body as I hit the cool air outside.

'As long as you're paying.' I look back at him, his eyes still shining, even in the cool winter darkness.

'Lass, I told you.' He laughs running his fingers up my back. 'You can pay me in other ways too, doesn't have to be money.' I let him smile to himself as I walk out in front. I feel the mood change from one of playfulness into one dripping with the promise of something else, I gently toss the plastic bag into a nearby trashbin before hearing the same deep voice in my ear.

'Fuck Swan, you're hungry for something and it's not food.'


	5. Chapter 5

**OH MY GOD thank you all for all the response to this story! It's making me so happy but so sad that this is actually a quite emotional chapter. I promise it'll get much sexier soon! ENJOY MY LOVES**

If she didn't know better the blonde knew this was a very bad idea. A catatonically bad idea. Who goes home with a man that they'd just fucked and they had noodles paid for by. Well it was her. It was her that still had panda black smudged eyes, a white shirt coming with buttons coming loose, frayed denim jeans and shoes that had turned her small feet into a valley of burning red blisters. But it was him: he wasn't just some guy.

It was just general knowledge that strippers were people that you saw in their line of work and you never saw them again: unless you counted regular blow jobs or pussy fuckings as a regular setting to have a conversation over. I can hear my Mom's sweet peachy clean voice in her head now.

'Isn't about time you settled down Emma?'

'So I saw August again at the country club, he's looking very handsome, not married either. I gave him your number; remember how well you used to get on.'

The constant not very subtle hints that she wasn't at her prime anymore even though she hadn't reached the tender age of 30. I guess they'd been banking on Graham popping the question. After all they had gone out for over 2 years, but it didn't seem like that it seemed much longer, like she was constantly living in some fairytale dream where time had stopped and she was given Prince Charming on a platter. Like her Mom had said to her Dad whilst she'd been cleaning vegetables in the kitchen: 'David she's never going to get better.'

But he wasn't Prince Charming was he: not with his model good looks, his chocolate coloured eyes and thick Irish drawl. He was (probably) a cheating bastard that liked checking out other girls behind her back that weren't chronic bitch faces that didn't show regular waterfalls of emotion or want to talk about her feeling ever fucking time they had sex.

But this man who had her by her small hand, dragging her through the cool paved streets of Boston whilst she limped inside her shoes and worried if she was making the right decision. This felt like time sped up: like only a few minutes ago she was talking to fish in a shitty Chinese takeout, waiting to drag her ass home and sit in silence staring at the wall for 6 hours before dragging her ass out of bed and onto the train to work. No this was time sped up.

'You feeling ok love?' I was bought out of my state of dream by the man who had his hands in mine.

I squeezed his hand tighter as a sign of reassurance. 'Fine.' I manage to utter.

You see, I never get emotional. Not over the break up, not over my parents indirectly telling me I couldn't do better than a man whore, but thinking about how I'd never done anything to make myself happy, only doing things that I thought would make me happy. But this wasn't emotion, I had to push this to the back of my brain and smile at the man next to me with the dark brown hair. He had to believe I was still the girl that fucked him with confidence and spoke with sourness in her voice. I had to still convey the message that I didn't have any fucks, and I was hard and rough and-

She felt him stop walking and let go of her hand, ironically enough thick droplets of rain began to fall around her face, framed with lank blonde hair.

'Emma-.' He paused and placed his arms on her shoulders. 'Love you're clearly not ok.'

She looked around at the street that lay around her, a dimly lit street with roughly paved slabs of concrete. The smudges of grey paint on the brick walls around her like someone had been paid to cover up graffiti.

'Love you're crying.' He looked at her eyes, his blue eyes shining at hers with an emotion she often saw.

I didn't even realize that the rain drops falling were also mixed with my own salty tears, this wasn't a regular occurrence. Without even thinking about it I felt my own cotton covered arms come up to my face to bat the tears away leaving a streaky grey line on the shirt. Great look Emma, you nailed the unstable looking fuck girl look.

'No I'm not.' I manage to utter gruffly, my voice adopting a tone of sadness that I didn't like.

His arms still stayed placed on her small shoulders as the rain began to fall harder, soon Killian's own plaid shirt was a darker shade of red that was starting to soak in water. She tried to push him away, trying to escape the small piece of comfort that was touching her clothed body.

One thing about me is the fact that I don't deal well with someone being nice to me, I'd never accepted compliments deep down inside, but you learn quickly to play a character after years of feeling sick because your friends become less interested in you once they know you don't smile or laugh much. Once they know that you probably won't comment stupidly girly comments on their new facebook profile pictures or cry at their wedding as they get married at 19 surrounded in homemade paper lanterns and napkins from Target. I'm used to minimal emotion, minimal love and no one to share it with; I'm used to holding it in.'

Suddenly the rough looking clouds above began to pour harder, the rain falling around them thicker than before, she couldn't see out of her own eyes because it stung too much and she mainly didn't want him to see her like this.

'Don't try and pull away from me Emma.' He spoke clearly through the heavy noise of the rain, his hair down dripping wet, strands of chocolate falling in front of his eyes, water dripping from his lightly tanned nose, his hands wet with water still not budging from her own arms. 'We're not moving until you tell me what's wrong.'

'You won't understand.' My eyes closed trying to avoid his piercing gaze.

'Why.' He questioned, his feet shuffling on the ground.

'Because I know how you're looking at me.'

An expression of confusion passed through his brow for a matter of seconds before he spoke clearly again. 'And what expression is that love?' The seemly arrogant nature he usually possessed on their other meetings fading away with the rain that was falling around them.

'Pity.' I spat the words out feeling more salty tears spring from my waterlogged eyes. 'You pity me.'

She expected a smile to meet his lips but instead he removed one hand from her shoulder and began to trace her jaw, moving a loose strand of sodden hair behind her ear. It wasn't a romantic gesture like in a romcom; but it was understanding and soothing.

He continued to trace the outline of her jaw before she felt her back shudder with the painful cold of the outside.

'Emma, I want you to listen to me right now love.' He spoke boldly, my own eyes managing to sum up the courage to look up at his face once again. 'I don't know the first thing about you admittedly.' He paused taking a breath. 'But I knew as soon as I saw you standing in the club I knew you were special-' He paused a laugh coming out his mouth.

I somehow felt my lips do the same.

Recovering from the moment of humor he regained his composure. 'Believe me I didn't copy that line from a romcom, but I just want you to know that whatever shit you're going through.' Another emotion passed his face for a brief second as if he was really thinking. 'I've been through shit too, and fucking sucks- I mean from fucks sake I'm a 30 year old male stripper.' He moved his hand up to her lips now, tracing the pale pink shape with the length of his thumb. 'I know what it's like to want to hold it in, you probably thought when you met me, or fuck- even before you met me that I was going to be a shallow arrogant twat.' The man in front of her quickly took hold of his breath almost as if he was contemplating what to say. 'I don't know what it's like to feel full up inside, I don't fucking know what it's like to feel stuff-' He paused again, this time the serious expression was quickly banned from his faced like he was a little boy ashamed.

He pulled away from the bundle of warmth they'd somehow managed to strike up in the moments that had just previously passed. The rain still fell in buckets, the street now empty with nothing but him and her and a flickering street light.

'All I wanted to say is that I don't pity you-' He quickly plastered another smile on his face almost just because he didn't want her to see him any other way. 'I think you're great-.'

Somehow between Killlian's inner monologue or speech to try and make her feel better (?) She managed to regain control on her emotions. The blonde felt her eyes wet with nothing but the rain and sting with nothing but the long gone mascara that had once taken home on her small lashes. She relaxed her fists and patted the blouse down her front.

'Great-' I felt my lips say the word to test it out. Fuck it wasn't the best thing that he could have said but she knew he'd stopped what he wanted to say. Somehow in the past 20 minutes he'd gone from a dirty stripper into someone that was bubbling just below the surface. He was a human, a real person.

'Yes-'

'So-' She tried to close the silence but the rain did that for them. It felt like a third spectator on the small emotional battle that had just unfolded.

'You look like shit.' He finally managed to say, his deep English voice making her feel warm once again.

'I'll take that as a compliment.' She gave him a small smile as she artistically tossed her wet hair behind her shoulders.

'You do that Swan.' He laughed. 'But seriously now that we're done with that-'

'I thought you' never ask.' I felt my cheeks turned a rosy red colour.

'I was just about to say leave me the fuck alone.' His long arm gave her a punch, his blue eyes crinkled around the edges but his face still remained deadpan serious.

'Oh fuck off Captain.' I teased. 'You've probably got a shower and I fucking need one.'

The man that was becoming less of a stranger took her by the arm and began to pace down the cold empty street once again. Her mood rising, becoming less flat more rounded and open.

'I've also got a bed, I know that's what you're hoping for Swan.'

'Save it-' Emma felt herself laugh, whilst playfully pulling away from the brunette. 'I'm looking to get cleaner, not dirtier.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Am I going to do this thing where I update like once a year? NO! Because this story is continuing this month! Read, review, fav and follow! **

My eyes slowly open the next morning, my head feeling like it had been impounded by several rocks and had someone set fire to it with a cigarette lighter, my mouth feeling as dry as the sahara desert and my skin, crawling with some sort of sticky coating, making my arms look like they'd been drenched in maple syrup.

Great. My mind firstly trying to picture the last thing I remember-

Being in a Chinese takeout talking to a fish: a real bloody low point if you ask me- Oh, oh yes. Him. Crying on the street, getting soaked in rain, makeup disaster, all flooding back. All flooding back up until the moment when I entered this apartment. Probably his apartment, but just to be safe I grab for a nearby shirt that was left crumpled in a heap on the floor. Opening it up and seeing the logo of the 'Jolly Rodger' bringing me happiness and severe discomfort at the same time. More discomfort than happiness as I've probably ruined my chances with this guy being so bloody emotional, emotional for the first time in my life and I've overdone it: great job Swan.

My head still feeling like there's a swarm of bees buzzing around; I smooth down my tangled hair and try to stumble up from the messily made bed while trying to hold in whatever still belongs in my stomach. Turns out this isn't an easy task as before I'm even halfway up, I have a sudden pulsation of lukewarm vomit just trying conjure out my mouth, dying to make an appearance on the dark oak floor.

'Fuck' I manage to moan as I cup my hands over my mouth and suddenly my legs wake up, managing to half run, half stumble out of the room and into a small narrow hallway. The apartment being eerily quiet apart from the grumbling of rain pouring from outside, almost like I'm the only one in the building.

'Hey.' I scream, or try to scream as my throat is on fire; it comes out like a weak moan. 'Anybody here or awake or-'

I'm cut off my own vomit not being able to wait its turn, my legs buckle as I find a heavy copper cup off a shelf and seem to throw what must be an entire days' worth of brown looking mush. Admittedly I feel a lot less like death but still, I'm kneeling naked apart from an old faded strip club top in a small carpeted hallway, with no fucking clue where I am and if even people are around. What if he lives with his mum? The thought pops into my head without thought, my arms reaching down to cover myself almost simultaneously like she's there watching.

But looking around it doesn't really seem like the sort of place someone of a parental status would want to be seen dead in, unlike my sterile cold flat, this apartment although small and smelling of coffee, weed and freshly washed laundry which surprisingly is a comforting smell, has a sense of life about it. The tiny hallway where I'm currently situated is covered by an old and worn down red carpet, a windowsill looks out onto a single street lit faintly by early morning light and pouring rain, echoing through the thin walls. What strikes me most is the subtle nautical theme that's running through the room, a little frame on the wall elegantly displaying different types of knot, and an old painting of a ship on a stormy sea. A distressed and way too big set of deep oak cupboards make it hard to manoeuvre around the rest of the room, The curtains framing the window are of a faded out blue and clash with the red carpet so badly it makes me smile.

The sound of a police car on the nearby street sends me out of my daze, my sticky skin only now noticing how freezing cold it is, a chill is sent through me, causing me to shiver as I pull the tee shirt closer to my body. With the sick cup/goblet/trophy in my hands I gingerly get to my feet and tiptoe to another room off the hallway. This time it opens up into an impossibly small kitchen with dark blue roughly painted cupboards with just about enough room for an oven and a fridge. Between all the mess of opened letters, cigarette trays, and abstract coffee mugs lies a tiny wooden table with 2 mismatching chairs. Even though there's currently no one in the apartment it feels so full and lived in, despite its tiny cramped size, feels like home.

The chill still circulating round my body, I walk over to a rough looking kettle and fill it up with water and wait for it to boil, avoiding the fridge as the thought of food makes my stomach churn yet again. I pull my knotted blonde hair up and into a messy ponytail and wipe my eyes as I continue to observe the home that is very much lived in by Killian Jones. Taking the mug of hot water I pull out one of the rickety looking chairs and sit amongst the mess that lies out in front of me. My eyes spying a note left freshly on top of all the existing mess.

_emma,_

_sorry I had to leave you early this morning, I promised jeff I'd be at the club to sort out some staffing issues, I'm also sorry about the tattoo I made you get last night because it looks bloody shit-_

'The fuck?' I quickly pull up my shirt and rapidly examine my body for any sign of embarrassing ink, while my eyes catch sight of the note again.

_made you look hahahhaha! _

_Idiot_, I externally curse, picking up my mug of water and taking a sip, before starting to read again, his dry sarcastic voice in my head.

_you can stay in my fucking amazing mansion if you want, but I expect you have places to be, so what about you meet me at the club again tonight and we can take it from there. PS. Hope you don't get looked at too funny on the subway because u looked a right shit state this morning, just because we don't wanna scare any tourists away use the money and get a cab. K x_

The corners of my mouth peel into a smile and I grab the small bunch of notes left out beside the note and get up from the table, my legs slightly less shaky than before I woke up. I stumble back to the bedroom and swing on my leather jacket and grab my backpack that lies by the door. I manage to throw on my jeans, whilst deciding to keep the 'Jolly Rodger' strip club merch.

As I'm leaving through the flaky painted ink blue door, my mind feels a lot calmer than it did when I woke up. Not sure if it was the reassurance of the note, or the complete 180 on where I was 2 weeks ago, sitting alone in my apartment as Graham had just announced that it wasn't working. But this felt new and so alive. Like I thought and Ruby thought and everyone thought the best way of getting over someone you were thinking of marrying was to fuck it out your system. I mean to be honest, 'fucking it out my system' did partially work, but this feeling is so much more than post hangover fizzing in my head. It's a feeling that's totally grabbing hold of my body and urging me to explore it more-

Unexpectedly the door I'm opening swings back the other way, coincidently right into my face. The blow feeling even worse coupled with my growing headache and fragile state.

'FUCK' I scream, my hands racing to my forehead, which feels slightly damp, pulling them away and back into sight they're covered in sticky blood, which does match the stickiness of my alcohol coated arms but still fucking gross.

'Shit!' a girls voice exclaims behind the door which I slammed back the other way as a reflex. I manage to pull it open and watch her eyes light up in horror. Either it's my really smudged bordering on frightening eyeliner or the fact that my forehead is cut open.

'Your forehead!' She says before touching my shoulder quite hardly. 'Really fucking sorry about that babe.' She pushes past me into the small hallway leaving me staring back outside the apartment into the corridor. 'Excuse me for being a bit out of line but who the fuck are you?' I hear her voice come from the kitchen. I follow her into the room and wipe the blood which keeps annoyingly coming in front of my eyes, the thick red stuff obstructing my vision. 'Because Kill didn't say anything about visitors this morning.'

'Um-Emma?' I manage to answer as I watch her simultaneously get some kind of spaghetti out the fridge while managing to rummage for a cigarette in her other hand. She has bright, electric bright red hair which falls around her face in big waves, pale white skin and deep blue eyes. Being a shy, slightly closed off 27 year old I'm not usually putting myself in situations like this with people like her-

'Well Um-Emma, you need to do something about that cut, looks pretty bad to be honest babe.' She walks towards me while dragging on her lit cigarette, pushing me down onto one of the chairs and yanking my head back. 'Stay like that while I get some tissues.' I manage to get a quick glance of the rest of her and like Killian she's covered in tattoos, although the one that stands out most is a rather prominent mermaid, which appears to be swimming all the way up her outer thigh as she walks. 'Like my tats babe?' The girl gives a cackly laugh while sharply restraining my head and dabbing it with a wet cloth so hard that I'm sure she's actually making it worse.

'Yeah.' I manage to respond with, looking up at her face. Her eyes outlined with thick black khol and turquoise eyeshadow she looks like she's ready for a night out, not a 10am Wednesday morning.

'You're rather quiet to be Kilian's type.' She continues not giving me a chance to even breathe. 'I mean to be honest I always expect him to have someone over but honestly, no offence babe but you look like you've seen better days.' Her eyes flick back over to the spaghetti heating up on the stove. 'Wait a sec babes.'

'Do you just expect any girl to be round here, to have fucked Killian the night before?' I finally ask, while she tends to her breakfast(?)

'Yeah you get used to it, although I'm always available if he can't find anyone to fuck though babe, you know what I mean.' She gives a wink in my direction.

To be honest I didn't understand what she really meant but I got the idea. 'So when he's not fucking for his job, he's fucking for fun?'

'Totes babes, you get the picture.' She gives the same cackly laugh. 'He's a horny bastard that Jones.'

I reach for my head before wincing, the blood has stopped a little bit but I can feel the bruising imminent. Fucking great Emma you're going to look like a homeless hooker with a bruise the size of England on your forehead, fucking sexy.

'-so yeah you know, even though I'm his girlfriend he can pretty much fuck who he wants at the club or back here.' She pauses while dragging on her cigarette. 'You know what would be fucking amazing, a threesome!' Without pausing for breath she continues 'I'm Ariel by the way babe, you can call me Ari- like Ariana fucking Grande.'

My mind swirling with what she'd just uttered. 'Girlfriend- what?' I stand up and get away from the table, my arms wrap around my body like it's dropped 10 degrees.

'-I mean Killian says I do look like her when I do the signature hairstyle you know?' She laughs, forking a large mouthful of spaghetti past her outlined red lips. 'Girl yeah I know it's a shocker right, Killian Jones with a girlfriend.'

'So you're joking?' I can feel my eyes widen.

'Nah babe, he's all mine.' She peels down her short sleeve teeshirt so I can see a heart tattoo with his name. 'Got it in ink and everything.' She pauses like she's thinking of something before swinging her legs off the table and grabs me in a tight, rather restricting hug. The redhead smelling of stale cigarettes and Juicy Couture. 'It's ok babe, I know it's hard to understand, the newbies always react like this.'

I pull away, feeling my eyes sting around the corners. 'Newbies?'

'Yeah the one night stands, no offence babe but Kill isn't one to fuck around-' She laughs, letting out a large cough 'fuck around twice that is.' The girl finding that so funny that she has to put down her bowl of spaghetti and clench her sides.

So great. Essentially I have done what I thought I was getting myself into day one. I fucked a stripper, found a stripper in a downtown shitty Chinese takeout, poured my feelings out to said stripper and OF COURSE HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND, OF FUCKING COURSE!

Knowing that my eyes can't hold back the stinging any longer, I feel my feet start to back away from the kitchen, the comforting red carpet now feeling sticky, the mismatching blue curtains now hurting my eyes.

'Babe I'll let him know you stopped by- yeah.' She shouts as I open the door, my cheeks brighter than her hair, and twice as embarrassing.

'Sounds great.' I manage to utter, swearing to myself I'll never be back there again. _Home_. That's not fucking home, that's hell. I feel for his note in my jeans, pulling it out whilst feeling for a something to write with in my bag. My hands produce a scarlet lip liner, furiously my fingers untwist the cap and scrawl all over the note in painful red script.

_FUCK YOU KILLIAN JONES, HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR SINGLE FUCKING LIFE BEING 'EMPTY' JOKE INTENDED BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT FUCKING SINGLE ARE YOU. DICK._

My hands continue to act on behalf of my brain as they screw up the note and throw it against the wall. My shaky legs start to walk away from the apartment and away from the fact that Killian Jones ever existed.


	7. Chapter 7

**I promised updates and you got one! They'll be more captain swan next chapters but lets be honest I got to make them hate each other for them to have angry makeup sex, you know you love me! Read, review and enJOY!**

'Honestly what did I expect to happen? He's a fucking stripper for fucks sake, it's not like he was looking for a causal relationship to fit in between popping off to work 6 days a week to fuck someone else.' I throw myself onto Ruby's burgundy leather couch, my feet dangle off the edge as I bend down to kick off my converses that have created a valley of red blisters. 'Like FUCK HONESTLY RUBY WHY DID I CARE SO MUCH?'

'Listen Em, I don't know why you're beating yourself up about this.' Her brunette friend outstretches her lightly tanned arms onto her shoulder. 'He's a stripper yes, we've established that, he's a total dog, we've established that.' She gives a gentle sigh before walking into her small bedroom that connects onto the brightly lit living room. 'You just need to move on from him now, can't be harder than moving on from a 2 year relationship with Graham can it babe?'

And as she said that I felt a swirl in my stomach, not like happy butterfly sensation but like a drop and a churn. How could it even be possible that I cared more about some person who was basically a stranger, instead of a boyfriend that I shared the last two years of my life with. I had plans of marriage and plans of cutting cake surrounded by family that were forcing us together, tied together by all that sugary sweet happiness that on reflection didn't really exist at all.

'I think Graham was fucking someone else before he broke up with me, I think that was the reason.' I hear my voice say to Ruby. She suddenly comes out from her bedroom holding several makeup brushes. Her dark brown eyes don't open wide with shock like I'd expect but her cheeks drain of their colour completely, fading from a soft pink to ghastly white.

'Fuck, shit, what babe?' She gives a little laugh to disguise her apparent shock. '-With who?' She stays in a stationary position leaning against the door frame.

'I think it was his partner, the girl with the lip filler lips you know.'

'-oh Lindsay' She says casually before going back into her bedroom.

'How do you even know that?' I ask her. To be honest I know I wasn't model material girlfriend but like how does she even know that?

Leaping up from the couch I go over to the small kitchen, opening the cupboard knowing directly where the vodka is located. Ruby's flat is small but decorated so nicely in her clear style. Black marble countertops subtlety accented with red, hazel brown wooden floors with photos hanging on every wall space available.

'Oh pour me a shot too please babe.' She gestures to the cupboard where the glasses are before swiping an accurate smear of bright red lipstick on her naturally big lips. 'And yeah, I chatted to Graham too didn't I?' She giggles before grabbing the shot and downing it in one. 'At like the police department Christmas party or something, I don't know.'

'I didn't even know that you guys ever met.' I say to her while simultaneously pouring more strawberry vodka to drown the feelings of anger squashed deep down in my stomach caused by this mornings events.

She walks round the other side of the kitchen counter before giving me her signature Ruby smile. You know the smile that makes other guys feel compelled to take you home or fuck you in a car. 'So what if I knew him, probably met him while serving cocktails or something, you know I have a bad memory.'

'-So was it a Christmas party or in the bar?'

She leaps back overdramatically and whips her hands out to the side. 'God babe, I know you've had a hard day but stop giving me the third degree already. She gets out a pale blue coffee mug from the shelf, pouring it full with the vodka. 'Here, maybe this will calm you down.' Sliding it back across the counter.

'After how much I drank-.' I pause before remembering that I still haven't got any clue of what happened last night. 'Or possibly drank last night, the last thing I need is to get shitfaced two nights in a row.'

'Alright sour bitch, suit yourself.' Her red acrylic nails grab the mug as she starts to drink.

Not really feeling in the argumentative mood I try and change the subject. 'So why have you put the entire mac makeup counter on your face?' My fingers intertwining around my sandy wet hair. (A shower was long overdue and that's predominately the reason I came round to Ruby's: she has hot water and I don't.)

Ruby gives me a glare before letting out a little laugh, before throwing up her long chocolate hair into a glamourous bun. 'Maybe I've taken up a new hobby-'

My eyes widen, automatically being given visions of the girls that I saw a few weeks ago in the Jolly Rodger. 'YOU'RE STRIPPING WHAT?!'

Putting down the mug and walking over to a closet she suddenly bursts into laughter, her cheeks bunching up into a ball. 'Oh Em you're such a laugh, no I'm doing a life class.'

'-A life class..?'

'I'm not sure if I'm flattered or insulted you think I got a job in a strip club.' She says whilst dragging out some very stripper like heels from the closet. 'Although you know more than I do on that topic.' She walks back over and sticks her tongue out playfully.

'Fuck off.' I say whilst lightly punching her on the arm. 'But anyway what the fuck is a life class, and why do you need stripper heels for it?'

The brunette pushes me away and narrows her dark brown eyes. 'Firstly these aren't stripper heels they're actually Prada fakes, secondly, if you must know I'm going to be admired and painted by loads of people!' Her voice saying that with more enthusiasm than I'd imagine.

To be honest that was typical Ruby and something I should have come to expect. Our friendship was complicated but can be simplified in a sentence. Ruby was the center of attention whereas I was anything but. She came into my life the same way that's she's always been in it. Working at the bar and instead of serving drinks filled with cherries she was popping them left right and centre, she was a bigger player than most of the guys aimlessly waiting at the bar for a pretty girl to fuck. She was anything but silent and twice as deadly. And that's why I'm still not sure a girl with deep chocolate hair with a face and body that just screamed out sex was best friends with me. A girl with sandy blonde hair than bobs just below her boobs and a face that is only ever seen with minimal makeup and a stoic expression.

'-Earth to Emma.' Snapping out of my daze I look up to see large brown eyes staring right at me.

'Um yeah, cool.'

Her forehead scrunches up. 'More than cool Em, and this shit is for charity too, I get to be painted naked AND it's for a good cause.' Her tanned toned legs bow down into a curtsey. 'Call me an angel if you want.'

I erupt into laughter. 'If that's what you keep telling yourself Rubes.' I embrace her into a warm hug, and unlike the girl this morning, she smells like-

'What perfume are you wearing?' I suddenly pull away, my mind trying to place where I last smelt that scent. 'It's like musky and kinda boyish.'

She chews her lip. 'Oh some free sample I got in a magazine I don't know babes.' She reaches below the kitchen counter and grabs a purse. Pulling strands of hair out her messy bun she touches my shoulder. 'Come on, you should do some painting too, you used to be really good at it before you stopped.' The brunette says encouragingly.

My mind still trying to find a place to match the perfume, I'm half in a daze when she pulls me out of her apartment only having time to grab my rose brown jacket and phone before I'm swept into the cool November air into her little red mini, being driven to fuck knows where to paint a naked person.

'Just for confirmation I hope I don't have to paint you naked.' I say 10 minutes later as we're driving downtown, the car windows fogging up, and the radio playing an old Bruce Springsteen song.

'Erm however insulting that is, there's a guy there too I think.' She laughs while looking at herself in the rear mirror. 'I heard that you're more likely to fall in love with a guy if you see him naked the first time you meet him you know-'

I cover my eyes, pinching her hand 'Ok yeah, I don't think I'm ready to have someone else shit on my heart just yet Rubes.'

'I'm not asking you to marry him Em.' She says as she wipes the car windows down. 'Just paint his dick on the first date ok.'

I give a snort of laughter before watching the car pull up to a big white building with French windows, lit by a natural yellow light. Without even entering the building I can hear chatter and smell the scents of champagne.

Ruby grabs me by my freezing cold hand and drags me past the doors and into the reception before ushering me off to go get a seat. Waiters pass me a glass of champagne and take my jacket without even asking. Real classy set up, totally contrasting from the events of last night as I enter the larger room with two large circle stages set higher up than chairs surrounding them. Taking a seat at the stage that 'Male Anatomy' I cross my legs and stretch out my arms, my eyes almost closing due to be so sleep deprived, I wouldn't be surprised if even painting a male dick couldn't keep me awake over the next couple of hours.

'Is this your first time dear?' I lean over to my right and see a middle aged woman draining the last of her champagne.

I roll my fingers around the rim of my glass before giving a response. 'Yes-.' I tail off, not really knowing what to say.

She doesn't seem to care and carries on talking. 'He's so charming, his deep eyes, his gorgeous thick hair, I wish he was interested in a woman of my age otherwise I'd be straight in there.' She smiles at me. 'You're more of his age darling, he's a lovely boy too, I can introduce you if you want?'

I give a brief smile before drinking the rest of the alcohol in my hand. I stutter with a response before she fills in the gaps.

'I'm not taking no for an answer anyway.' Running her hands through her thick brown hair. 'I'm Cora by the way.'

'Emma.' I smile, the champagne coupled with the strawberry vodka starting to have an effect. 'Yes, I'd really appreciate that, I mean only this morning I found out this guy I saw had a girlfriend!' I exclaim to the woman with as much enthusiasm as I can gather.

'That happens to the best of us doll.' She gestures towards the waiter for another glass of champagne. 'You know what would be fun.' She pauses taking a long deep sip. 'Kevin loves us to call him 'The Cobra' when he comes on stage, It's all a bit young for my taste but he seems to enjoy it.' She gestures along to a line of similar aged ladies sitting beside her. 'Doesn't he girls.' The ladies decked out in similar pant suits and pearl necklaces all agree in unison. 'Make an impression on him Emma.'

I nod and give a bigger genuine smile. 'Alright.'

The lights dim slightly and the music that was playing in the background quietens to almost a silence, the circular stage lights up in a bright florescent white, and somehow shouting 'The Cobra' at the naked man that's walking up onto the stage doesn't feel like the appropriate thing to do in this situation. But I feel a tugging on my sleeve and look up to see Cora's coral outlined lips mouthing it, her eyes urging me on.

The figure walks up onto the top of the stage, the white light blinding me temporarily so I quickly smooth down my blonde hair and before I've had a chance to think through how genuinely embarrassing this situation is I shout it.

'Cobra!' The naked figure quickly comes into focus better than before, feeling my cheeks turn a bright fuchsia pink I notice a large compass tattoo, followed by several strands of rope and anchors dotted up his thick muscular thigh. 'Fuck.'

'Emma?' Trying not to look up from the sight of my lap, I force my head up to stare back onto the stage and the man that was in front of me. I'm pretty sure my whole body is an embarrassingly beetroot red as I catch sight of his pained but shocked expression, his dark brows raised and his hands slowly retreat down to cover his dick.

'Is this him?' Cora whispers into my ear almost immediately.

'Wrong time Cora.' I mutter back sharply, the pain I'm feeling is basically visible in my voice. Fucking great Swan.

'She knows Kevin!' The older lady rises from her chair in delight like she's watching back to back real housewives of Beverley hills, relishing in the apparent drama.

By the time this has happened, the whole room, including even Ruby's painters have stopped and are glaring at me.

'Who the fuck is Kevin?' I shout in more of an agitated voice than I'd like.

'I'm Kevin lass.' I hear the gruff British accent I've become used to. 'Don't tell me you've forgotten what I look like?' His smile lights up with a toothy grin. It appearing like he's gotten over the surprise quickly, appreciating the extra attention.

I get to my feet, draining the rest of the champagne in my glass, reaching for Cora's and gulping that down too. Ladies begin to whisper all around me. I find my feet shuffling awkwardly and my cheeks feeling like they've been set on fire. My levels of intoxication growing higher by the minute, I manage to give the man one last look before striding to the door.

'Guess she met my girlfriend.' The brown eyed man says to the audience that's gulping up either the drama unfolding or his amazing physique.

I sharply turn around before backing into the door giving my head a bang. 'Fuck.' I feel myself curse before eyeing up the man on the stage. 'Fuck you-' I turn around again and swing open the double doors dramatically. 'Kevin.' Leaving without giving the crowd a chance to react, or the bastard a chance to explain.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! Thank you for reading everything and I hope you're getting into the story! This is a shortish chapter due to what I'm planning next so hopefully you like and it come back for more! Please review so I can know how to improve, fav, follow and ENJOY! X**

You've had one of those moments, you know where you're so embarrassed that you would rather turn into a cloud of black smoke or shut yourself in a room with white chocolate and hot chocolate and just wait out eternity. Well this situation is calling for a shit load of red wine and chocolate cinnamon ice cream. If you notice the similarity here it's the fact that shit loads of nasty cheap wine and chocolate ice cream is what I do whenever life gets tough: EG: being dumped at the same time you thought you were going to be proposed to (Thanks Graham). Well shouting 'Cobra' at Killian Jones the stripper, aka Kevin the nude life model and coming face to face with his flaccid dick in front of a room full of 50 year old woman kinda counts as one of those moments.

'Swan.' I hear the same impossibly British voice behind me. 'That was a joke, I'm sorry love, just please let me explain.'

I carry on striding through the gravel drive of the fancy white hotel; my uber driver can't come soon enough. 'Please just do me the one pleasure of fucking off.' I manage to eventually shout back. The sky grumbling with grey thunder, the clouds swirling together like the pit of my stomach. I pray that the torrential rain holds off long enough so I can be safely in the comfort of my own flat, wrapped up in a blanket and finally getting round to watching 'The Notebook.' If someone can cheer me up tonight it's going to be Ryan Goslings angelic face.

'I broke up with her this morning.' He says suddenly managing to swerve his body in front of mine. He's wearing nothing but a small towel that's barely managing to cover anything, his tattoos pop off his skin against the foggy grey road that sits behind him, it taking all my strength not to look down at his chiselled thighs and-. 'Are you listening to me Swan?' Coming out of my daze I raise up my head to stare back at his chocolate eyes that are bearing into mine, his thick eyebrows raised.

'Oh wow Killian.' I raise my hands and begin to vigorously applaud. 'Well done for breaking up with "Ariana Grande" shame because she was SUCH a catch.' My voice becoming sharper and more sarcastic by the minute.

Unexpectedly his desperation disappears and his deep voice becomes as stormy as the overcast sky. 'Cut the shit Emma, if you're going to behave like that-.' His long arms folding over each other. 'Firstly don't you disrespect Ariel because-' He pauses.

'Because?' I snap back, tossing my hair over my shoulder. 'What because she's so _easy_, you go perfectly together.'

'Oh fuck this; you don't have anything to get mad about to be honest Emma, it's not like we're in a relationship.' The rain starting to pour down like last night, but unlike the rain acting as a protective bubble, each word spilling out of his mouth stung my skin.

'Who said I wanted a relationship?' Throwing my hands up in the air. 'God, I don't know why I thought deep down there was actually a decent person.' I shift from one foot to the other, the gravel drive becoming slippery and uncomfortable under my worn down converses. 'Like your _best friend_ Ariel said, you can't have a free moment in your day when you're not fucking someone or planning to fuck them later.'

He looks at me with a stoic expression; the usual life in his deep brown eyes is cold like the weather around us. 'Keep going.' He says.

'I don't even know what happened last night since I can't remember but I'm guessing you probably fucked me unconscious since you HAD to get off right?' I give a big smile. 'Hope I was good!' I look down to avoid his growing anger. 'I mean I couldn't have been the best but I had tough competition right? Like 40 other girls to compete with-and that's just in 24 hours!' I give another laugh. 'You're a 30 year old male stripper, A THIRTY YEAR OLD STRIPPER, come one admit it, it's fucking hilarious.'

After a period of silence, the sky replies back with a thunderous rumble, the rain pouring harder than before, the lightness fading, switching from day to night without a peachy sunset.

'You want to know something Emma.' He slowly says his voice loud and clear over the tone of the rain. 'You're not special, that's just something I tell all the girls, and you're right I like sex.' He stops for a second. 'No I fucking love sex, and I'm so confident in myself that I don't actually give a shit about what you think.' I look up expecting a face to match the stormy weather, but his eyes are brightly lit again and a smile is across his face. 'But I bet that you're so broken and insecure that you believed _every single little word_ I said to you.'

Every single word coming out of his mouth hurt more than the next, every single word feeling like punch in the stomach, hurting more than the time Ruby pierced my ears with a hot needle or the time I went out running in the snow and slipped on black ice and broke my collar bone, no this hurt like he was inside of my head and slowly rubbing me raw.

'Is that good enough for you?' He spat with contentment, his arms raised above his head, stretching back exposing more of his golden body.

My mind frantically trying to do 10 things at once forgets the part where I'm not meant to cry in front strangers. Big fat tears start rolling down my cheeks, I can tell my black eyeliner is rolling with them and making me look almost as ugly and raw as I feel inside. I run my hands through my soaking wet hair trying to fathom a response that will carry the exact weight of emotion I'm feeling, but nothing happens. He just stands there smiling, so at peace with himself that he feels the self-righteousness to push someone down and feel fucking nothing.

I look up again and in the distance I see a black car driving towards the hotel through the mass of pouring rain, it pulls up on the soaking wet gravel drive and opens its window. 'Uber for Emma Swan?'

I sigh in what seems to be relief and try to breathe out to exhale and calm myself down. I pick up my bag that's been abandoned on the floor and push past the man that's blocking the way. He doesn't say anything more but turns and watches me as I get in the car, the smile still thickly plastered on his face, his hair splayed across his forehead dripping with rainwater.

'Where to love?' The driver turns round towards me.

I try and wipe the remainder of the tears off my face as I buckle my seatbelt, eventually giving him my address.

As the car begins to pull away from the hotel, I watch him as he lifts up his hands to his chest and forms a heart like shape and breaks it apart, smiling at me and giving an obnoxious wink.

'Actually can we make it Rose Street, change of plan.' I calmly say to the uber driver as an idea pops into my head.

'The Jolly Rodger club?' His scratchy voice repeats back.

'That's the one.' I smile, turning towards the window and blow a kiss at the man stood in the rain, dripping wet wearing nothing but a towel, his expression remains solid, but I can see his feet shuffle under him. 'And can we get there kinda fast please, I got business to attend to.'

I swiftly get out my phone from my sodden bag and manage to text Ruby.

_Meet me at the jolly rodger club in 10. E x_

It's only a matter of seconds before my phone makes a buzzing noise.

_U made up w the hot british stripper n going to fuck him? R._

I sigh, wishing it was that simple, but I manage to reply back one final time before switching off my phone to prepare for what I was about to do and who I was about to hurt.

_No I'm going 2 make an 'appointment' w his best friend and make sure he knows about it. E._

The uber arrives on the dimly lit street once again, I exit covering the top of my head with my bag to try and shelter what is left of the makeup on my face. It's funny how 2 weeks ago I was anxiously walking down here to meet the man who I was about to fuckover, and it was so out of character that I didn't really have it in me to reason with myself. He made me into such a ball of anger and I the more he said and the more it hurt the more my stomach relished the fire burning inside of it. Last time I walked down this cocaine heavy street I was pretending to be bad, but this time I really was: real fucking bad.


End file.
